


Meet the Parents

by perfectpro



Series: mob au [2]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, Meet the Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:07:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23237440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfectpro/pseuds/perfectpro
Summary: Geno takes Sid to meet the most powerful man in Pittsburgh, and Sid takes Geno to meet his family.For a mob AU, this is about as fluffy as it gets.
Relationships: Mario Lemieux/Nathalie Lemieux, Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin
Series: mob au [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1670701
Comments: 15
Kudos: 240





	Meet the Parents

They spend most of their nights at home, curled together and watching movies, Sid tucked under Geno’s arm as he reads his textbook. It’s normal in the way that Sid never thought it could be, back when he was first imagining what things would be like with Geno, before they actually got together. When they were still feeling for each other in the dark, testing limits before settling into what they are now.

The sounds of TV are suddenly muted, and Sid looks up from his chapter to find Geno staring at him intently. “Something on your mind?” he asks, careful to not presume too much. 

Geno strokes his thumb on Sidney’s shoulder where he has his arm wrapped around him, and this is another thing that Sidney didn’t know to expect when they started this. Geno is always so gentle with him, the kind of gentleness that comes from caring for something too much and having to see it break even then. No one has ever thought of Sid as breakable before. No one has ever thought he needed to be protected before, and he finds like that he likes the blanket of safety that Geno has become for him.

“Mario wants to have you over for dinner,” Geno finally says, trying to say it so offhand that it doesn’t matter, but Sid knows a summoning when he hears one. 

Stiffening, Sid pushes his book onto the coffee table, not bothering to mark his place. He should have known it was coming, eventually, and he thought he did. It’s just that he didn’t know it was coming so soon. “When?” he asks at last, because there’s no use in asking why.

“He suggested this weekend; I told him I’d check with you,” Geno responds.

This is one the ways that Geno has changed since they started dating: he checks things over with Sid instead of making plans for both of them without knowing Sid’s schedule. The first time he hadn’t, Sid had shrugged and gone to work, unconcerned with going out to whatever fundraiser Geno had RSVP’d them for.

They’d fought for a few days, Sid sleeping at his apartment and screening Geno’s calls until he’d finally come home and put his work schedule on the fridge. Ever since then, Geno checks with him before making plans, and Sid makes sure to let him know what his commitments are.

Sid has met Mario before, of course, both at the restaurant and at events with Geno, the type of black tie occasions that he’s come to learn the mob is fond of for some strange reason. But it’s never been in so personal of a setting, nothing where they exchanged more than a few words. He wonders if Mario waited as long as he did for this because he was trying to see if they’d last.

Some part of Sid ruffles at that, unreasonably struck by the thought that anyone could look at his relationship with Geno and think it could end.

It’s that thought that makes him sit up a little straighter and grab his textbook once again. “Saturday would be good,” he announces finally, and that’s the last of it.

-x-

They drive over to Mario’s, and Sid doesn’t let his hands shake as he switches through radio stations on the way there. Geno is quiet, the kind of quiet he usually gets after coming back from meetings, the kind of quiet that means tomorrow morning something will come up in the newspaper, buried a few pages back but undoubtedly related to his work. Sid doesn’t let it bother him, just lets himself be comforted by the fact that Geno’s driving and Kris and Olli are tailing them rather than them taking the same car.

It’s never a good sign when Geno wants Kris to drive them. Sid has ridden backseat to enough close calls to know that.

“Is this going to be an interview or something?” He can’t stop himself from asking, because the idea that Mario Lemieux could be asking them to dinner for no particular purpose is almost unimaginable. 

Geno looks at him and then makes a turn into the kind of neighborhood that Sid used to daydream about living in when he was a kid, before he understood why they didn’t live in a mansion. The houses are all three stories, with detached three-car garages that have mother-in-law suites constructed over them. Large, landscaped lawns are in front with manicured gardens in the side yards. 

“No need to interview. You’ve already got the job,” Geno teases him, and Sid rolls his eyes at that. It’s not like it isn’t true, though. 

When they get through the gate to the house and walk up to the door, Sid has a moment of wondering whether he should have worn something nicer, whether they should have brought more than just a bottle of wine and dessert. Geno’s dressed fairly relaxed, though, and he used to live with Mario. In a way, Sid guesses, this is kind of like coming home.

-x-

The Lemiuex’s house is as extravagant as expected, if slightly more tasteful than Sid would have thought. Nathalie is clearly behind it, every decoration placed with too much care and precision to hint at the use of a decorator.

She seems pleased when Sid points it out on the tour that she gives him, pressing her lips together in an unsuccessful attempt to fully conceal her smile. “Thank you. I’ve always tried to make our home seem as welcoming as possible,” she acknowledges, reaching out to straighten a picture frame. It’s of the entire Lemieux family, even their dogs, posed together on the back patio with smiles on every face.

Sid bites back the question that comes to mind when he sees it, looking around at the rugs thrown over hardwood, the antique glasses that sit on the bar cart. It looks like something from a magazine, and it only seems more intricately designed with every angle that he sees it from. “You’ve done a good job.”

Demurely, she tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “I hope you’re going to help Geno with his place. When he got it, he wanted the ultimate bachelor pad, a monument to leather and chrome.”

Truthfully, Sid hasn’t done much other than bring over blankets that are comfortably worn in, not to mention that he’s expanded the movie collection a little bit. “I haven’t really changed anything. Most of the things that are new since I moved in are thanks to Dixie,” he tells her, and she nods, a smile stretching over her features at the mention of the cat.

“Geno was always fond of the dogs when he lived here, so we got him Jeffery as a housewarming gift of sorts. I’m so glad that he and Dixie are getting along.” She smiles at him, and Sid realizes he really doesn’t have anything to add, but the conversation is saved when the door to the back patio opens.

Geno comes in first, carrying a platter in front of him laden down with steaks. He smiles when he sees Sid standing with Nathalie, walking into the dining room and setting the plate down on the table. “Little more well-done than usual,” he says apologetically, mostly to Nathalie.

“Sorry about that, we got caught up talking about things,” Mario announces as he shuts the door behind them. “I think I managed to get them off in time, but we’ll see.” 

Patting Geno on the shoulder, Nathalie slips behind him and grabs the bottle of wine sitting on the counter. “I’m sure they’re fine. And I can’t say I’m surprised you were too busy talking; it’s been a while since you’ve come by,” she says, sliding her gaze past Geno and onto Sid before uncorking the wine.

Sid knows that it might just be a pointed comment, not a dig, so he lets it go without saying anything. He accepts the glass that Nathalie passes to him, meeting Geno’s curious gaze.

There’s no question that Geno’s intrigued about what they talked about while he was outside with Mario, but Sid doesn’t think that interior decorating exactly counts as a titillating conversational topic. He nudges Geno’s attention back to where Nathalie is holding out the last glass of wine to him, a fond smile perched on her lips.

-x-

Dinner goes over smoothly, with the occasional touch of awkwardness, most of it spent in bursts of conversation about Sidney, the Lemieux children, and the charities that Nathalie runs. Each topic is bookended by a moment of silence. The Lemieux’s dinner table apparently has a ban on business talk, as per Nathalie’s request.

She shrugs and slices through her steak, mentioning, “I think that it’s something that shouldn’t really be talked about at the table.” The slant of her mouth is as sharp as the knife she holds.

Sid doesn’t really know her, but he thinks of what it must take to be the wife of the most powerful man in a city, what it means to protect a family that must be under such scrutiny. She is more than she lets people think she is. He finds that he likes Nathalie Lemieux more than he’d expected to.

After dessert, homemade pound cake served with a strawberry sauce, Geno collects the plates and takes them back to the kitchen, rushing ahead when Nathalie stands as well.

“Geno, set those down! You’re a guest in this house; I won’t have you cleaning the dishes,” she scolds, moving through the doorway and letting it swing shut behind her.

Mario shakes his head, chuckling in a way that suggests it’s not a new argument. Sure enough, what can be heard floating into the dining room sounds familiar and friendly, a banter that they’re accustomed to. It reminds Sid of being home, the way that his mom will tell him not to worry about things.

“I don’t know why she bothers. He always cleaned up when he was here, no matter how many times we tried telling him the kids needed to do their share of the work. I doubt she’ll have any success now that he’s moved out,” Mario says. He seems pleased anyway. 

Sid can’t help the laugh that he lets out, unreasonably amused by the thought of Geno never failing to be helpful and being the first to volunteer for clean-up. He flushes when he notices the careful look that Mario shoots him, reaching up to touch his hair. “I’m sorry, it’s just that I find it a little hard to believe. I have to remind him to put his plate in the dishwasher all the time, and we always have to check for mugs in the bedroom before we actually do the dishes.”

The corners of Mario’s eyes crinkle, and they sit together quietly, the only sounds those of Nathalie and Geno snapping gently at each other from the kitchen. Sid can hear the water running, and he guesses that Mario is right, that they’ve started to wash the dishes from dinner.

After a time, Mario stands up, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. “I haven’t found it in myself to quit just yet. Care to join me outside?” He glances at the kitchen door and rolls his eyes before looking at Sid in a moment of shared understanding.

“I don’t smoke, but I’ll join you,” Sid agrees easily, standing and pushing his chair in behind him.

-x-

There are so many questions that Sid has, and he doubts he’ll ever know everything. The more exposure he gets into Geno’s world, the more curious he gets. Even when he does ask Geno, it’s not unusual to get shut down with a sweet kiss and the proclamation that he doesn’t have anything to worry about.

Sid doesn’t think he’s worried, is the thing. It’s unnerving to realize, but it’s true. They’ve been together for nearly a year, and Sid thinks the panic would have set in by now if it was going to.

It can still feel surreal, though, in moments such as this one, where he is standing on Mario Lemieux’s back patio, watching the man himself smoke a cigarette and tap the ash into a tray on the railing.

With as many questions as he has about Geno, most of them have been answered inadvertently. Geno came over from Russia because he’d known Gonch, and Gonch had recommended him to Mario, and he and Mario had taken a shine to each other almost immediately. The rest of the story has only been alluded to vaguely, Geno mentioning pieces here and there that Sid has taken note of.

“How long have you been in Pittsburgh?” Mario asks, breaking the silence as he taps the end of his cigarette onto the edge of the ash tray.

Sid wonders, for a moment, what kind of concession this is on Mario’s part to Geno. The fact that the head of the Pittsburgh mob is willing to make conversation with Geno’s boyfriend who started out as a waiter says more than anything Sid’s discovered since he met Geno.

Looking over, Sid shrugs. “Since just before I started high school. We moved around a lot when I was younger.” It had slowed down some when Taylor was born, but then Troy had gotten laid off again, and he’d packed the family up with the promise of the American dream, despite the fact that none of them were citizens, moving the family towards steel factories.

Mario nods. His face isn’t hard, but it is impassive for a long moment, concealing all of his thoughts. He breathes a lungful of smoke out in a practiced motion, one that makes Sid think of his own father out on the balcony. “We’ve been in Pittsburgh for a long time. Nathalie and I wanted to settle so that our kids always had somewhere to call home. It’s been hard, in some ways, not being home, but I think it’s been better for them.”

Throughout dinner, the Lemieux children had come up in conversation. Geno asked about them in a way that made it seem like he usually had frequent updates, things like how Alexa’s biology test went and did Auston still like his new coach. They all seemed to have a variety of interests, something that only makes Sid more aware of the unanswered question he’s been curious about for so long.

He starts out tentatively. “They all sound like they’re doing well. Geno talks about them, sometimes, and he sounds like I do when I talk about my sister.” He feels guilty even as he says it. Taylor is happy on her team and doing well in school, but she’s started asking Sid why he’s gotten too busy for family dinners.

“They think of him like a sibling, too.” Mario looks quietly pleased, the simple satisfaction that comes from seeing his family get along. Sid wants to meet the Lemieux children, see how Geno interacts with them, whether Auston and Stephanie make him play street hockey or if he helps them with their homework. It’s something that he could ask Geno, but there’s no real reason to beyond simple curiosity.

Common sense would stop Sid from asking, but it’s something that he’s never been able to make sense of since he first pieced the story together. He asked Tanger once, and Tanger had just looked at him flatly over lunch and said that was above his pay grade.

Sid knows Tanger’s pay grade. There isn’t much that should be above it.

Silence settles in around them, and it feels more comfortable than it should by all rights. They probably only have a few minutes before Geno and Nathalie finish with the dishes, so if Sid’s going to ask it really has to be now.

“Why isn’t one of your kids taking over? Why make Geno next in line?” Sid asks before he can talk himself out of it.

Mario takes a drag on his cigarette and then holds the smoke in, savoring it, before letting it drift away. Finally, he answers, “That wasn’t the plan when Geno came over. Gonch said he knew a boy who wanted to leave Russia, one whose skillset might be useful. The kids were young enough that I hadn’t thought of who would take control after me, and they’ve never been interested in my work anyway. It’s turned out for the best.” He smiles ruefully, stubbing out the cigarette completely in the ash tray and comments, “For what it’s worth, I’m not sure I’d want them to be interested in it anyway.”

There is something to be said for keeping the people you love out of danger. Sid rests his hands on the railing and thinks about his parents, who he mostly sees at Taylor’s games now. They’ve started asking about meeting his boyfriend and he’s running out of plausible excuses.

The back-door slides open, and Nathalie comes through with Geno following behind her. She smiles at them and passes her wine glass to Mario, who takes it without comment and leans to kiss her on the cheek. Every one of their actions speaks of how comfortable they are with each other, how long they’ve been together. 

Sid turns towards Geno and takes his hand.

-x-

On the drive home, they hold hands between the seats and Sid wonders how long they’ll be together before they can communicate in the effortless way that Mario and Nathalie do, in the way that Sid has seen his own parents glance at each other before coming to a wordless decision.

“Nathalie liked you,” Geno tells him, glancing away from the road and sneaking a smile Sid’s way.

It’s high praise, and Sid knows it. “So you’re keeping me, I guess?” he jokes, squeezing Geno’s hand and letting himself imagine making the drive again and again, reinstating Geno’s old tradition of going to the Lemieux’s for a weekly dinner. Sid doesn’t usually work Tuesdays or Thursdays to leave himself time for homework, and Geno and Mario run close to the same schedule in the evenings. It could work out.

Geno strokes his thumb over Sid’s fingers and promises, voice low, “Keep you as long as I can.”

Something tightens in Sid’s stomach, and he’s somehow surprised even though he knew this was coming. He wants to say something ridiculous, like _I’m not leaving_ or _keep me forever_ or _I don’t know who I would be if I didn’t love you_. Instead, he presses his hand into Geno’s and says, barely louder than a whisper, “I want you to meet my parents.”

-x-

Sid goes to the rink for Taylor’s latest game, squeezing by a few of the other families when he sees his parents tucked into the top of the stadium and watching the ice avidly.

“Did I miss anything?” he asks, sitting next to Troy and accepting the water bottle that his mom passes him. “The score doesn’t look too bad.”

As he says it, the goal lights up behind Taylor and the other team shouts in celebration. Sid watches Taylor get out of the goal and hand the puck to the ref, scowling under her mask. He winces sympathetically, hearing Troy pull in a breath though his teeth before he stands and shouts out a well-meaning message of encourage.

Taylor doesn’t turn to wave at them, just positions herself in the net again, saying something to the forward closest to her before they head for the faceoff circle.

“She’s really been playing well,” Trina comments.

Troy nods, sitting back down and watching as Taylor’s team wins the faceoff, heading down the other side of the ice as Taylor comes out of net a little further.

They sit through the rest of the period, mostly quite with a few mentions of the playing style and how Taylor has been doing. When the players go to head off the ice, though, Taylor turns and waves at them enthusiastically, grinning while she takes her mask off.

Sid waves back at her, unable to stop himself from smiling. He hasn’t been able to make many of her games this season, and he’s grateful for the ones that he can set aside the time for. “I’m sorry I’ve been busy,” he apologizes, knowing before he even says it that his parents will scoff.

“You’re supposed to be busy, honey. You’re out of the house and have your own job, your own friends. We see you often enough,” Trina reassures him, reaching over to pat his knee.

He does make an effort to try to get home for dinner once or twice a week, or else come to one of Taylor’s games, but it doesn’t always work out with his and Geno’s schedules. He shrugs, feeling the knot in his stomach tighten, and thinks about how much longer he’s going to able to keep his life separate from his parents. However much time he has, it’s starting to run out.

Watching the Zamboni drive in carefully straight lines across the ice, Sid asks, “Would Saturday be a good day for dinner for you guys? I want you to meet my boyfriend.”  
There’s a sudden lull in the conversation before both Troy’s and Trina’s voices are competing to be heard, like the announcement took a second longer than expected to process. They quiet down and stop talking over each other, and that’s when Sid can finally make out what they’re saying.

“That would be great, sweetie. We can do that; we’d love to have him over,” Trina tells him, so earnest that it’s hard to look straight at her.

“Serious enough to meet the parents, huh? Of course, you guys are always welcome over.” Troy looks painfully proud, and it’s clear that he’s unsuccessfully trying to conceal just how excited he is.

Sid smiles at them, partially relieved, and looks down at his hands.

-x-

Sid carries Taylor’s bag to their parent’s car after the game, letting her cling to his arm and reenact the last minute and a half, where the other team went empty net in an attempt to make up the one goal differential and try to push the game to overtime.

She’s leaning heavily on him, clearly exhausted, and Sid looks behind him to notice their parents watching them from behind, holding hands and smiling indulgently at their children. It’s almost guaranteed that Taylor is going to be asleep before she gets home tonight.

Trina gets the trunk open and Sid hands Taylor her bag back so that she can wrestle it in, something that she’s become adamant about doing herself recently even though she’ll let other people carry it for her.

“I’m glad you feel comfortable enough to introduce us to your boyfriend, kiddo. I didn’t want to say anything, but I was getting a little nervous,” Troy says, clapping his son on the back.

Sid keeps his eyes trained on where Taylor is lifting the back of the bag, trying to get the second half of it to fit in the trunk. “My boyfriend is Geno Malkin,” he says, finally.

Troy’s hand stills, tensed for the moment. When he lifts it, it’s clearly an intentional movement to put an arm around Sid’s shoulders and pull him in. “Sid,” he starts, and then goes quiet.

Before he worked at the restaurant, if Sid had known what the name Geno Malkin meant, he’d have been disconcerted by it. He wonders how his dad feels, knowing that his oldest child and only son is dating the man who will inherit the Pittsburgh mob.

It’s not an inaccurate description of Geno, but it’s an incomplete one. The Geno who comes home from meetings talking about business is the same one who whistles to himself while making pancakes in the morning and runs around the apartment with a string behind him for Dixie to chase. He’s the same person as when he’s sitting in front of the TV after a long meeting, working through things that Sid has never asked about.

“I’m in love with him, Dad,” Sid says, because this isn’t something that’s up for debate, and he can sense his dad trying to decide whether he should say something or not. “He’s good to me.”

Troy sighs, letting the tension out of his body along with his breath, and he squeezes Sid’s shoulder in something that feels like resignation. “Alright, kid. We’ll have him over.”

-x-

When he gets home, Geno is sitting on the couch, a hockey game on the TV and a beer next to him. As Sid walks by the back of the couch, Geno reaches up to takes his hand and pull him in a little closer.

“Did your sister win?” Geno asks, grabbing the remote and muting the TV.

Sid sinks down and leans into Geno’s side gratefully. “They lost, but she did really well,” he says, tucking his face into the juncture between Geno’s neck and shoulder. Without hesitating, Geno strokes a hand through his hair and Sid shivers into the motion, unable to stop himself.

“I told my dad who you were. I think he’s worried,” Sid admits, watching a guy get flattened into the boards. 

“Smart man,” Geno concedes, finishing off his beer and setting the empty bottle on the end table. He looks over to see Sid staring at him and shakes his head slowly. “I worry about you too, sweetheart. That’s why we have Olli and Dumo. I’m not safe for you.”

It’s true, in the sense that Geno is closer to danger than anyone else Sid comes into contact with, excluding Mario. Sid can’t deny though that he’s never felt safer than curled up in their bed late at night, Geno a warm weight lying next to him. He tangles his fingers through Geno’s and tilts his head up to watch Geno tracking the puck on the ice. “You said Saturday was good for dinner, right?” he checks.

Geno nods, leaning back into the couch and adjusting to get comfortable. “Any day good for you.”

-x-

The dinner is strained, but Sid doesn’t really know what else he could have expected. His parents sit across from them at the table, looking at their son and his mobster boyfriend. Troy must have given Trina some forewarning, because she doesn’t so much as blink when Sid introduces Geno, just smiles at him and apologizes for the mess.

The house has been thoroughly cleaned. Even the coat rack is cleared off, and Taylor’s rain boots are stashed by the door like they always here. Sid doesn’t say anything, just grabs glasses and starts to fill them with ice.

It’s tense, because neither of his parents ask Geno what he does, and they also stay away from topics such as how he and Sid met, or how long he’s been in Pittsburgh. Instead, Geno shows them pictures of Dixie, Jeffrey, and the squirrel from the park that Jeffrey chased up a tree a few days ago. Sid talks about his classes and the restaurant, how he’s changed his major from early childhood education to history and is thinking about adding a minor in economics.

If Sid had ever thought to imagine the dinner where he would introduce his first boyfriend to his parents, he doesn’t think he would have come close. Troy and Trina are nothing but polite to Geno, but Troy keeps shooting glances at Sid across the table. It’s better than how Trina barely looks at him at all.

When they leave, Geno hugs them goodbye and goes to the car, leaving Sid alone with his parents for the first time since he told them.

Trina pulls him close suddenly and pats at his chest even as she lets him go. “You take care of yourself, honey,” she tells him, and her eyes shine wetly under the porchlight.

“He really seems to care about you,” Troy says, moving in for a quick hug. He seems resigned, but it’s better than if he were disappointed or angry. It’s going to take time, Sid knows.

A glance at the car shows Geno resolutely not staring at them, fiddling with the radio instead and messing with the preset stations in all likelihood. Sid knows that the moment they back out onto the street, Tanger will speed over from where he’s parked less than a block away to catch up with them and follow them home, Dumo next to him in the passenger seat. 

“I really care about him, too,” Sid answers, and he thinks about going to bed tonight, how he’ll pull Geno in to almost blanket him, how it’ll still be a while until he’ll be able to sleep. “I think he’s it, for me.”

Trina inhales sharply, and she touches her eyes in an absentminded motion before nodding at him once. He waits for either of them to say something in response to that, anything. They remain silent, though, and Sid hugs them each once more before heading over to the car, where Geno is waiting for him.

**Author's Note:**

> This had been written up for a long time and I'd totally forgotten about it until someone commented on the first fic that they wanted a meet the parents fic. I figured since I already had it, I'd oblige.


End file.
